Part of this chapter centres around the season 8 episode 'Rehab'. I don't own any dialogue from that episode.

4 April 1992

"When we arrived at the club, having followed the van from the previous location, we observed Mr Patterson take delivery of the women who were on board."

"And what conclusion did you draw from this?"

"That he was expecting them and that they were going to work for him as prostitutes."

"Thank you WDC Lewis, I have no further questions."

She smiled as the prosecution lawyer took his seat and then steeled herself for cross-examination as Patterson's defence lawyer rose. The man himself was seated to her left, just within her eyeline, though she had tried hard to avoid looking directly at him since she had entered the witness box.

"Constable Lewis, were you briefed about this operation, prior to it taking place?"

"Yes."

"Officially briefed?"

"Well…" she paused, torn between the truth and fiction. "I wasn't part of a full, official briefing, no."

"Then how did you become aware of the operation?"

"Detective Inspector Burnside told me about it."

"I see…the same Detective Inspector Burnside with whom you'd previously had an affair?"

"Objection!" the prosecution lawyer rose to his feet. "This is completely irrelevant."

"I'll allow it to a certain degree, but please watch your step Mr Burrows," the judge ruled.

"Thank you M'Lord. Constable?"

She fought to maintain a neutral expression. "Yes."

"Yes, you had previously had an affair with him?"

"Yes."

"So, he decided, for personal reasons, to bring you in on an operation that you were not officially tasked to be part of?"

"You'd have to ask him about his reasons."

"Quite. But, suffice to say, you were not originally meant to be part of the operation."

"No."

"In fact, you weren't even with the surveillance team from the start, were you?"

"No."

"Why did you become involved then?"

She paused, mindful of her need to be careful what she said, but acutely aware that the lawyer's sole aim appeared to be to discredit her on the basis of her relationship with Frank, and that he appeared to have information that she wasn't entirely sure how he was privy to. "I felt it was important."

"So important that in fact you, who weren't supposed to be part of the operation, were the officer who in fact arrested Mr Patterson, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Is it not the case, Constable, that in May of 1989 you undertook an undercover role in Mr Patterson's club?"

She paused again, her gaze shifting momentarily to Patterson, unable to help herself from wondering why he was allowing his lawyer to ask such questions. It could only lead in one direction; the revelation of the fact that he had been under investigation before and that was something most defendants didn't want a jury to know.

"Constable?"

"Yes," she replied, "I did."

"And you worked as a barmaid in an attempt to try and find evidence that Mr Patterson was responsible for allowing underage girls to work as prostitutes."

"Yes."

"And did you find any such evidence?"

"Not that anyone was underage, no, but there was evidence that he was running prostitutes."

"And during the course of that investigation, is it true that you were attacked and sexually assaulted by a fellow undercover police officer, Detective Constable Ryan Brown?"

She shivered at the memory, at how easily she could recall the feeling of fear and the sensation of him on top of her, pulling at her clothes. "Yes."

"A traumatising event."

"If you say so."

"Do you blame Mr Patterson for what happened that night?"

The question threw her slightly and, for a moment, she simply stared at the lawyer. It was something she had never really considered before but, if Patterson hadn't been under suspicion, she would never have been asked to do the job and Ryan would never have been able to touch her. Perhaps, looked at in that way, Patterson was to blame. "I suppose, perhaps in some way…"

"Then you would have been keen at any opportunity to try and bring him down, as it were."

"No…"

"You must have been delighted when Inspector Burnside, your friend between the sheets, suggested that you might want to take part in this operation. You must have seen it as a way of getting your own back for what you perceived Mr Patterson was responsible for."

She bit down a retort, well aware that it would do her no favours with the jury whom, she could see, were watching her intently. "If Mr Patterson wasn't doing anything wrong, there would have been no need for any operation. I took part in order to legitimately arrest him for committing a criminal act, no other reason."

"Despite the fact that, apart from this van arriving at his club, you had no other evidence that he was involved in trafficking these women."

"There was evidence. We had been given good information by an informant."

"One of Inspector Burnside's informants."

"Yes…"

"Did you ever speak with this informant yourself?"

"No."

"So, you relied upon what Inspector Burnside had told you."

"Yes, as did the Vice Squad who were also part of the operation. They clearly viewed the information as credible and reliable."

"How did you feel when you arrested Mr Patterson?"

"Like it was a job well done."

"You felt vindicated?"

"Yes."

"Vindicated for what had happened before? Vindicated for the fact that, in the previous case, there was no evidence against Mr Patterson and yet you blamed him for what had happened to you."

"No…"

"But you've just said that in some way, you blamed him."

"I…"

"I put it to you, Constable, that your entire involvement in this case was masterminded by Inspector Burnside to allow you to gain some form of satisfaction at slapping the cuffs on a man that you blamed for an incident that had happened two years earlier and that, in fact, you had no evidence whatsoever to back up any claim that he was involved in the trafficking of women for sexual purposes."

As she made her way back along the corridor of the courthouse towards the main entrance, she felt bile rise in her throat and it was only by stopping at the water fountain that she managed to push it back. She hadn't been expecting any mention of her relationship with Frank to be brought up, but perhaps that had been naïve of her. Perhaps any investigation they were involved in together that came to court would always be tainted by their association. Once outside, she took a deep lungful of air and made her way back to her car, cursing herself for how badly she felt she had answered the questions put to her. If Patterson walked, she knew it would stay with her for a long time.

Back at the station, she dropped her bag on her desk and lifted the phone, automatically dialling her father's number. Since his revelation, she had taken to calling him every day to see how he was, something she knew was starting to exasperate him, but also something she knew she had to do. It had taken time for what he had told her to sink in, for the realisation that, in six months, the father she barely had any relationship with would be gone. Part of her still hoped to persuade him to either come to London or allow her to go to Brighton but, so far, he had remained steadfast.

"Goldilocks, you really don't need to call every day," he said after her initial greeting. "I don't feel any different today than I did yesterday."

"If I didn't call, you could be lying dead, and no-one would know."

"Well, you could have said that weeks ago. Cancer's hardly likely to make me just drop now, is it?" She had no words for that. She knew very little about pancreatic cancer and, for that alone, she felt ashamed.

"I really wish you would…"

"Enough, Chris, come on," he interrupted her. "We've had this conversation innumerable times now…"

"I know."

"I'm not coming to London and you're not coming to Brighton and that's an end to it. You can visit as much as you like, but I don't need a live in nurse." His tone was firm and part of her knew better than to argue further, at least for the moment. "How did you get on at court today?"

"Oh, it was all right," she lied. "I did what I could. It's up to the jury at the end of the day."

"I'm proud of you, you know. I always have been, even if you haven't thought I was."

She paused, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "I always thought you never approved. You've always had your personal views on coppers."

"Yeah well…getting a diagnosis like mine makes you re-evaluate things. I've not been fair to you in the past. Not all coppers are bent bastards. Reckon you and Frank are two of the good ones." He paused. "He loves you, you know."

"I know."

"You could do worse. A lot worse. Some might say you already have."

Stewart's image flashed before her eyes. The events of the last eighteen months often seemed so unreal, almost like a dream. For all that he had become, for all that they had become, there was still a part of her that mourned the early days. Which was probably at least part of the reason that the idea of marrying Frank filled her with trepidation.

"I'd better go," she said finally, as some of the others came into the office. "I'll call you again tomorrow."

"You don't have to."

"I know." She hung up the phone before he could say any more and then turned to the papers on her desk.

"All right?" Jim said from across the room.

"Oh yeah, fine."

"How was court?"

"It was great," she lied. "Reckon I nailed the bastard to the wall."

XXXX

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Ah yes Frank, come in." Brownlow waved him into his office and then lifted the phone on his desk. "Derek, could you come through please? Thank you." He replaced the receiver. "How was court yesterday?"

"It could have been better," he replied honestly, "but it could have been worse too."

"What do you think the chances are of getting a conviction on Patterson?"

"Hard to say sir. Chris Lewis is up this morning and I've no doubt she gave a good account of herself." He knew that she had been nervous about taking the stand, unsure exactly what the defence lawyer was going to say, but he also knew that she was professional enough to deal with whatever he threw at her.

"Morning Frank," Derek greeted him, coming through the internal door from his office. "How's the case going?"

"I was just saying that Christina was giving evidence this morning. She's the last prosecution witness so, hopefully, we won't have to wait too long. I doubt Patterson is going to take the stand."

"Well, you never know."

"No, you don't." He waited expectedly, wondering if they were going to talk to him about what he thought they were, namely, the DCI role. In the month or so since he had been acting up in the post, he felt as though he had done well and shown good leadership. He hoped they had been able to see that too. They would have been blind not to. With the boards coming up in the next six months, he was confident that the next rung on the ladder was in sight.

"I wanted to thank you for all the work you've put in over the last month," Brownlow said. "Everyone seems to have fitted into their new roles well; you as acting DCI and Greig as acting DI."

"We've done our best, sir."

"I was concerned that, by Kim leaving, things would fall into disarray, but I'm pleased that they haven't." Brownlow paused. "Obviously, you'll be aware that CID cannot operate on a long-term basis without a fully functioning DCI."

"No, of course not."

"You're familiar with DCI Jack Meadows, of course."

"Of course, sir," he replied, feeling a pang of sympathy for the other man. In the wake of the revelation that his trusted bagman, DS Lovell, had been on the take, Meadows had been demoted from Superintendent to DCI, something he knew the other man had taken ill-out. It couldn't have been pleasant, being made to understand in the strongest possible terms, that you had failed in your leadership. He only hoped it never happened to him. "Any time he's been at Sun Hill in the past we've worked well together, particularly when he was with AMIT."

"Yes…I hope that that spirit of cooperation and collegiality will continue."

"Sir?"

"He's been appointed as the new DCI for Sun Hill CID."

He paused, unsure for a moment if he had heard right. Glancing at Derek, the other man looked away and he felt his stomach drop. "Jack Meadows is coming here?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm sure that you and everyone in CID will welcome him appropriately. I've no doubt that he'll be willing and able to carry on all the good work that's been done here over the last few years since the DCI post was created." Brownlow looked at him. "I'm sure I can count on you to ensure that the others see it that way too. He'll be arriving next week."

He swallowed hard against the disappointment threatening to overwhelm him. It had clearly been too good to be true, foolish even to think that they would have held off, let him run as acting DCI for the next six months and then appoint him once he passed the boards. But Meadows…

"Thank you, again, for all your hard work."

He glanced at them both and realised that he was being dismissed. "Thank you, sir." Opening the door, he made his way back along the corridor to the CID office, seeing no-one until he got into the DCI office and slammed the door behind him. Surveying the room before him, he shook his head, almost unable to believe what had just happened. After everything he had done for Sun Hill, it was as though he was being slapped in the face. So, when the knock came at the door, he was entirely unprepared for company. "Not now!" The door opened anyway, and he turned, ready to rebuke whoever it was, when he saw Christina slip inside and close it behind her. "What is it?"

She paused, "I was just coming to tell you what happened in court."

"Do I really want to know?"

"I don't know, do you?"

He walked around the desk and sat down heavily in the chair. "I've just had a meeting with Brownlow and Conway. Apparently, Jack Meadows is taking over as the new DCI, effective next week."

"Meadows?" she stepped forwards. "After everything that happened with Lovell?"

"Well, I suppose they've got to put him somewhere. I just didn't expect it to be here."

"But I thought they would let you run with it and…"

"So did I! Only clearly, for some reason, my sin is greater than his."

"Sin?" she frowned momentarily before her face cleared. "Oh, you mean us."

"I mean, clearly being completely unaware that your right-hand man, someone you've mentored for three years, was as bent as a two-bit note doesn't come close to sleeping with one of your WDCs."

"You didn't get demoted though."

"No? Feels like I did. Feels as though my card's been well and truly marked."

"Just because you didn't get this role, doesn't mean that you won't still make DCI later this year. Nothing was made official."

"I know that!" he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, none of this is your fault."

"Well, I suppose I'm equally to blame."

He met her gaze and vowed to change the subject. She had enough going on without needing to be concerned about his career progression, or the lack thereof. "So, what did happen in court then?"

"Well, the defence lawyer made a meal out of the fact that you and I had had an affair. Clearly no-one's bothered about keeping names out of it anymore. Fortunately, there was no press present, so hopefully it shouldn't get reported, but I thought I should probably tell you so that you could alert Mr Conway in case anything does come out of it."

"Brilliant."

"Not to mention the fact that he also suggested that I was hell-bent on some sort of revenge against Patterson for what happened with Ryan. I'm not entirely sure what good it did his case overall, but I'm pretty sure the jury didn't rate me particularly highly."

"Well, thankfully you're not the only witness. Let's hope they can see past that to the other evidence."

"Let's hope." She sat down opposite him. "I called my dad again."

"And?"

"And he's still refusing to entertain any of my suggestions."

"Well, maybe you just need to leave him to it." He could understand why she felt the way she did. Angry, upset and guilty, but he couldn't help but worry at her letting it completely consume her. "He's a grown man."

"I know but…" she sighed heavily. "I suppose I just feel I should be doing something to help him, that's all."

"There's not a lot you can do if he doesn't want help. Besides, he's all right at the minute. Maybe, later on, he'll be more willing."

"Maybe. Have you spoken to Pat?"

"No, not this week." It was his turn to feel slightly guilty. He hadn't called since they had been at her house telling her that the suspect in her case was dead. It wasn't that he didn't want to, or that he didn't care, but he just really didn't know what to say. "Any update on the attacker's identity?"

"From what Ted was saying earlier, dental records should hopefully be back by tomorrow."

"Then we can give his family the good news."

"Yeah." Rising to her feet, she turned for the door. "I'd best get back to it. Try and not feel too bad about Meadows, yeah? Maybe, in the long run, it'll turn out to be a good thing."

"Yeah," he mused as she closed the door behind her. "Maybe."

9 April

"Right. I'd like to establish a few ground rules, so we all know where we stand. I don't want my officers walking around as if they've just fallen out of bed. So, if you're interviewing a suspect, you wear your jackets. If you're outside the station, and that includes the front office, you wear your jackets. Shirt sleeves will only be worn in here or if you're not dealing with the general public. Ties will be worn done up, properly, at all times."

Christina exchanged a wry smile with Viv as Jack Meadows laid it on the line for his new merry band of troops. As they watched, Ted, Tosh and Jim self-consciously pulled the knots of their ties up before Jack turned to where Frank was standing behind him and watched as he did the same. It was almost comical, and she might have even laughed, if she wasn't aware of how badly Frank felt about the whole situation. Since he had been given the news, he had resorted to his age-old trick of retreating inside himself and barely communicating, unless it was to issue orders or dish out rebukes. It had been days since they had seen each other socially and she missed him.

The whole experience felt like a strange kind of deja-vu. Gordon, Kim and now Jack, each new DCI wanting to stamp their authority on the department and leave everyone in no doubt as to their management style and what they expected. Gordon had been somewhat suave, Kim keen to show that a woman could be in charge. With Jack, she could already tell that his defences were high, lest anyone comment on what had befallen him in the past.

"Right," he said, fixing his gaze on her. "Let's start with you."

"Oh…uh…me?"

"Yes. Frank, have you cleared your things out of the DCI's office yet?"

"Uh…not yet sir, but it's all in boxes."

"We'll use yours then. I'd appreciate it if you could vacate my office by the end of the day though."

Before either of them had time to reply, he turned and moved past Frank into his office, shooting her a look as he did so that clearly indicated he wasn't willing for her to keep him waiting. Hurriedly, she followed him inside, closing the door behind her and hovering in front of the desk. "Sir."

"Sit down." He sank down into Frank's chair. "No doubt you've had a few of these introductory meetings over the last couple of years."

"You could say that sir, yes."

"No doubt you're waiting on me telling you that I've heard good things about you, that you're an officer who's going places and that I'm going to encourage you to try to make sergeant."

The brusqueness of his tone stunned her slightly and she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "Well, I…"

"I'm not going to say that, though I'd wager at least some of it was true." He fixed her with a steely look. "I know about your background, about what happened between yourself and Frank Burnside. Demonstrates rather a substantial lack of judgement, wouldn't you say, climbing into bed with your senior officer?"

"I…uh…"

"I take it that it's all long past."

"Oh, uh, yes sir."

"You've both been very lucky, allowed to stay at this nick and continue working together, but then I suppose that's the benefit of receiving an unofficial reprimand, isn't it? It's all just swept under the carpet, so to speak."

"In one sense, I suppose, but we were rather publicly outed in court."

"Yes, at your husband's sentencing." Jack sat forwards. "That can't have been pleasant."

"No, it wasn't." She searched his face, trying to come up with some sort of understanding as to where he was taking the conversation. Was he gloating? Wanting to make her feel bad? Giving her a warning? "But like you say, sir, it's long past."

"I hope so, for both your sakes. Frank Burnside is a chancer. The sooner you, and everyone else in this department, realises that the better." She felt her hackles rise. "I'm not going to tolerate insubordination, rogue behaviour and I am most definitely not going to tolerate inappropriate relationships between officers, is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"You're here to work, not play footsie under the table. If it happens again, you're both out, understood?" She bit back a retort, realising that it would probably only do both her and Frank more harm than good and merely nodded. "Good, right that's it for now." He sat back. "Send Martella in on your way out."

Rising slowly to her feet, she opened the office door and then closed it quietly behind her. "He'd like to see you now," she said to Viv, passing by her desk.

"Oh right, thanks. How was it?"

Raising her eyebrows was about the only gesture she felt she could make, and she waited until Viv had disappeared into the office and Jack's attention was focused elsewhere, before slipping into the DCI's office. "Christ…" she exhaled.

"What?" Frank asked, pausing as he lifted boxes from the desk over to the top of the filing cabinet. "What did he say?"

"What didn't he say? He certainly made it clear where he stood on the subject of you and I at any rate. I'd brace myself if I was you."

"Sanctimonious git," he muttered. "He's hardly one to talk. If he thinks he's coming in here to read me the riot act, he can think again. I've outlasted every DCI we've been saddled with, and I'll outlast him and all." He paused. "Missing Reid, are we?"

"No," she replied loyally. "But I'm going to miss you being in charge."

"I still am in charge and don't forget it."

"Frank…"

"What?"

She paused, not wanting to start an argument, but also wanting to lay her cards on the table. "This isn't going to turn into another power struggle, is it? One where I find myself pulled between two camps; yours and his? And before you say anything," she held up her hand. "I'm on your firm and always have been, but…maybe it's time you tried to work with the DCI, any DCI, rather than against them."

His face twisted in a sour expression, but he leaned back against the filing cabinet and thrust his hands in his pockets. "You free tonight?"

"Why?"

"Why? Why do you think? You and me; dinner, drinks, sex."

She knew what he was doing, putting on a show of male bravado, trying to remind her, in no uncertain terms, that she belonged to him and not to Jack or anyone else who went above his head. "Sex?" he nodded. "What happened to taking things slowly, courting and finding the right time?"

"This isn't the right time?"

"I can read you like a book. If we have sex, the only thing you'll be thinking about while we're doing it is how good it makes you feel knowing that I'm on your side. The whole time you'll be sticking it to me, you'll be thinking about sticking it to Meadows too."

He moved away from her, around the back of the desk again. "Well, that's a rather distasteful way of looking at it. If you're not interested…"

"I didn't say I wasn't interested, did I?" The very thought of being intimate with him causing goosebumps to rise on her flesh. "Fact is, after Patterson got convicted the other day, I was sorely tempted to drive over to your place that night and throw myself at you for a celebratory shag." The court verdict had both stunned and delighted her, gratified that Patterson would be going away for a long enough time that might help other charges to be brought against him. In some ways the defence lawyer had been right; she did feel somewhat vindicated.

His gaze locked with hers, "So why didn't you?"

"Because you were feeling low about the DCI post, and I just thought…" she shrugged, watching as he came around the desk towards her again and slid his hands onto her waist. "You might have turned me down."

"Never," he replied, moving closer to her, his breath dancing over her face, his lips brushing gently against hers before his mouth fully claimed her, his tongue meeting her own, his arms pulling her tightly into him, one hand in her hair, the other sliding down over the curve of her bottom. Then he broke away from her, his lips moving to her neck, and she heard herself gasp his name as his hands stole up, under her skirt and found the edges of her underwear. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

All of a sudden, for whatever reason, it seemed like exactly the right time.

In one fluid movement, he shifted away from her over to the door, quickly turning the lock before returning to her, his body covering hers as his hands slid back up her skirt, fingers hooking either side of her pants and sliding them downwards. With practiced ease, they moved together back over towards the desk, and she slid her bottom up and onto it, pushing up her skirt and parting her thighs grateful that, for some reason, she had chosen not to wear tights that morning, her pants now slung redundantly over one ankle.

He went down on her then, his tongue hard and insistent against her aching core and she bit down hard on her lip, trying desperately not to cry out as the sound of voices passed by the door. She could hear Tosh calling to Jim, asking him if they were heading out on enquiries or not, but the fear of being discovered only seemed to heighten her pleasure and transport her back the best part of two years to a night long ago.

As the orgasm built inside her, she gripped onto the edges of the desk, well aware how ridiculous they probably looked, her with her legs akimbo and him with his face buried between them but…oh God…it felt good. She felt her head drop back as she came and, once again, she fought against making any noise, desperate to scream his name, her arms eventually losing all sense of power, causing her to flop, somewhat unceremoniously, onto her back, knocking over a pen holder as she did so, its contents flying onto the floor.

Her body heaved with exertion, but before she could rest, he gently pulled her upright, sliding her towards the edge of the desk and kissing her, her fingers automatically straying to his belt, pulling open the buckle, unzipping the fly and reaching inside. He was rock hard against her hand and after sliding his underpants down, she guided him towards her, their mouths colliding again as he slid inside her, groans of pleasure tempered by breathless kisses. He moved painfully slowly at first, long strokes in and out that made her gasp before finally finding a rhythm that, despite the somewhat awkward positioning, seemed to work for them both. As his speed increased, she could hear, and feel, the desk moving ever so slightly against the carpet, a squeaking noise suggesting that the joists might not have been designed to cope with the weight of intercourse and, as the sound of more voices floated past the door, a renewed sense of urgency struck them both.

"Oh my God…" he groaned, his body spasming against hers. "Oh…Chris…Jesus…" His hands were rigid on her hips, holding her there, thrusting three, four, five final times inside her before slowing as a warm sensation flooded her. "Oh shit…" he held her to him for a long moment before pulling gently out of her, seed dripping from the end of his cock onto the floor. "I hope there's hankies in that desk."

"Well, you're the one who's been using it, so you should know," she replied breathlessly, trying not to laugh at the comedic sight of him, cock in hand, going around the desk and pulling open the drawers before tossing a packet of hankies at her. "Thanks very much." Sliding open the packaging, she pulled one out and wiped herself and the top of the desk before tossing the remainder to him. Limbs protesting, she lowered herself back onto her feet and bent to reclaim her underwear. When she turned back to face him, he was sliding his cock back into his pants and she couldn't help laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I think we can safely call this 'sticking it to Meadows.' How I'm ever going to be able to have a sensible conversation with him, or anyone, in here from now on, I've no idea."

"Suppose that makes two of us," he replied, zipping his trousers, and looking at her carefully. "You ok?"

"Never better," she replied, as he took her in his arms again. "But Meadows did say that if anything happened between us again, we'd both be out."

"Yeah well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him, will it? Besides, when you get divorced in the summer and I get my promotion in the autumn, nobody's going to be able to tell us what to do, are they?"

"No."

"And then, once we're married, well…" he brushed his lips against hers again, "you really will be all mine."

"Mmmm."

She watched as he quickly unlocked the door and then stepped over to the filing cabinet, lifted one of the boxes and held it out to her. "Come on, make yourself useful and help me shift this lot."